


we shall never again be prey

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, rating is for like two swear words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 04:57:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4166820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short set of drabbles around the events of the Canticle of Shartan. Not necessarily chronological. Complete, for the moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the legion fell before them / like wheat before the scythe

“You must not fail, my lord tetrarchus. If this... this barbarian horde is not stopped this side of the highway...” the little man shook his head, oiled tresses bobbing. “There is word of evacuating Minrathous.”

A hush fell over the tent, all eyes turning to look at the bent head and bowed shoulders of the tetrarch.

“Who leads them?”

The archon's emissary breathed deep.

“The- the woman walks at their head, ser, as- as the stories say.”

A muscle twitched beneath the tetrarch's eye and a cobweb of ice crackled out from under his splayed hands.

“She is a madwoman, not a commander of armies. I repeat, _laetus_ , who leads them?”

“The elf, ser,” the man trembled, his voice barely a whisper, “Shartan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Shartan 10:2.
> 
> _The legion fell before them_   
>  _Like wheat before the scythe,_   
>  _But the armies of Tevinter were numberless,_   
>  _A sea of death which crashed upon_   
>  _The Prophet and her army like waves._


	2. if you would live, and live without fear, you must fight

She sagged against the tree, her feet raw and eyes bloodshot, but her voice was strong and gaze steady.

“Where are you taking us?”

Shartan stared out over the plains to the west, watching as the sun stained the sky red.

“You taking us back to your masters? In the north? You betraying us?”

Miel had been a laundress, he remembered. Before the rebellion. A slave, born to slaves, born to slaves. Just one of many, as he had been one of few.

Her patience had crumbled to ash as the city burned.

“Eh? Flat-ear?” She choked on her own snarl, words breaking into a dry, hacking cough. He flinched and raised a hand to brush his ears. The tips had been cropped on an auction block long ago, when an elf boy had been purchased for the Archon's _cohors praetoria_. A sign of favour, once.

He laughed, and was surprised to find he still could.

“They'd cut more than my ears, if I returned to them now.”

Miel spat on the ground. “Twenty days, Shartan. Twenty fucking days. There's some talking of turning back. This isn't freedom, this is...” She shook her head. “This is  death .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Shartan 9:7.
> 
>  
> 
> _"A dog might slink back to the hand it has bitten_  
>  _And be forgiven, but a slave never._  
>  _If you would live, and live without fear, you must fight."_


	3. in the long hours of the night

He dreamed of fire. He dreamed of fire, of flames burning from unseen ground to shadowed sky.  Every way he turned there was nothing but fire, yet it  touched him not . His blood burned within him, yet when he looked down, his flesh was whole.

Then the fire parted, as a curtain does, and a single spark of light, so bright it hurt to look at, drifted towards him. Closer and closer it came until it met his forehead,  a kiss of coolness, blazed once, and disappeared.

He woke in the dark, the sky above  was  lit only by the stars. With shaking fingers he felt his face, traced the line of his nose up to where his skin still tingled, ever so slightly cool. But he felt nothing there except the familiar bumps of the three white dots of lyrium.

And distantly, he could swear that he heard singing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Trials 1:2.
> 
> _In the long hours of the night_  
>  _When hope has abandoned me,_  
>  _I still see the stars and know_  
>  _Your Light remains._


	4. i will go alone and see what army comes

The eastern horizon was growing pale and bright, the stars winking out one by one, by the time he finished his tale. Three times they had refilled his cup with water as he spoke, these strange southern quicklings who didn't look at him with the dismissal of master to slave, human to elf.

“And never again shall we be prey,” Shartan said, but here in the light of dawn, cross-legged on a ragged pelt, it sounded somehow less than when he'd shouted it from the hilltop under the stars.

Silence reigned, until the woman nodded, thoughtful and slow.

“You have been called, just as I have been called, to be the Maker's guiding light to your people.”

“What? Andraste, you cannot be serious!” A great bear of a man lurched to his feet, scowling. The woman tilted her head and smiled up at him from where she sat, across the dying embers from Shartan.

“Why can't I be, Havard?”

“Look at him! He bears the marks of the praetorians! His 'people' are probably nothing more than an entire fucking cohort! Armed to the teeth, throats glowing like demons.” Havard glowered down at Shartan.

Andraste looked back to him. “Are you a praetorian, Shartan?”

He smiled ruefully at her, at this strange woman who had listened so very intently to him, and raised his right arm. He clenched his fist, and the white lines blazed. Havard cursed viciously in his southern tongue and grabbed for his blade. Andraste's hand on his arm stopped him.

“I've fought praetorians before,” she said, “None had an arm marked.”

Shartan breathed out and let the glow fade.

“They'd never successfully marked a limb before me. All the others died.”

She nodded, and lifted her hand. Havard snarled something at her. In her accented Imperial, she replied cooly, “He is no longer one of the Archon's slave-swords, Aegis. Did you not hear his telling? He is free.”

She rose then, shook out her skirts, and stepped around the remains of the campfire to extend a hand to him.

“Come, brother, we will tear down the gates of Minrathous and set all slaves free.”

Shartan scoffed and rose, ignoring her hand. He fought the urge to look to the ground, as a good elf would, and met her gaze straight on.

“March with us if you wish, quickling, but the elvhen will set ourselves free.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Shartan 9:17.
> 
> _Seeing an army beyond counting gathered in the distance,_   
>  _Shartan said to the People:_   
>  _"Let us not fall into the jaws of the wolf together._   
>  _I will go alone and see what army comes,_   
>  _Singing, to the lands of Tevinter."_


End file.
